


mama yo quiero

by abrawmclaren



Category: Two Fat Ladies (TV Show - 1996)
Genre: Cooking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Introspection, Lung Cancer, Mentions of Cancer, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:32:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrawmclaren/pseuds/abrawmclaren
Summary: She waits by the phone with a tumbler glass with three ice cubes in it, and nothing else. Water doesn't seem potable; gin is out of the question.As her on-screen partner expires on her own terms in hospital in South Kensington, famed gourmand Clarissa Dickson-Wright remembers the run ofTwo Fat Ladies- and considers her own precarious mortality.





	mama yo quiero

**Author's Note:**

> 'Mama yo quiero' is a song that Jennifer Paterson sang with a member of the wait staff at a bar during an episode of Two Fat Ladies. Translated in English to 'I want mama', it stands to reason that the older (but not by much) Paterson took on a sort of maternal role while they were filming _Two Fat Ladies_. 
> 
> There are some who have come forward to point out that their relationship wasn't as close as it appeared on television, and that's going to be part of the headcanon here. They were both forceful personalities, and while I'm certain they clashed, they likely had enduring care and feelings of friendship for one another. 
> 
> Before Paterson died, she instructed Wright to bring her a tin of caviar. However, by the time her co-star arrived at hospital, it was too late - and in tribute to her friend, Wright ate the caviar.
> 
> Wright was at one time a raging alcoholic. Paterson died of lung cancer, compounded by smoking. Hedonists to their core, the Two Fat Ladies will go down in history as one of the most gastronomic romps of all time.

What most people don't seem to understand about Scotland is that it's always raining. All four seasons produce precipitation at such an astounding rate that one can scarcely survive for the lack of vitamin D. Not that vitamins have ever been or ever would be part of Clarissa's regimen; she would have preferred to have seen the sun on August 8th, 1999 all the same. In truth, Clarissa was so despondent that she had fished a crystal tumbler from the back of a cupboard, placed three ice cubes in it, and sad down on a banquette before chiding herself endlessly. No one was worth abandoning the wagon; not even Jennifer. Instead, she twists the tumbler in her meaty grip and watches the rain. _Steady the buffs_ , she wordlessly pleads. _Steady_.

Jennifer would likely not see the sun prior to her passing. It isn't a sad thought, mostly because the woman had experienced the warmth of that brilliant globe from all four corners of the world. _"My mother raised me on water from the Yangtze!"_ she would exclaim, causing no end of laughter while Clarissa had initially thought it ridiculous. Born into a certain measure of privilege like herself, Jennifer simply hadn't struggled as Clarissa had. Their arguments in the beginning were power struggles; two larger than life women with decades of experience under their formidably-sized belts, and with Clarissa's intellect shooting up above that of Jennifer's, there had been no end of arguments in the beginning. Over time, they learned to grudgingly respect the skills which had lead them to manning a wildly popular television series; the begrudging cease-fire turned into respect, and as it always happens, respect turned to friendship.

On their way into a fourth season, Jennifer fell ill rather suddenly. Clarissa had of course seen signs - one whose father was a renowned surgeon is at least rudimentary in their medical training by proxy - but Clarissa wasn't in the habit of chiding her friends. She justifies this, she knows, because there is a wine cellar into which she dare not venture when she's alone, but which acquits herself a bubbling adventurer for dinner guests. When they invariably become as deep into their cups as they are into her cooking, they stay in the guest room. When this happens on a weekly basis, she never says anything - it isn't her business.

Perhaps Jennifer's health _had_ been her business. As half of the venerable duo that had buttered and braised its way into the hearts of seventy million viewers from around the world, to have at least entertained a conversation wherein Jennifer's health was earnestly discussed seemed a matter of responsibility. Clarissa didn't mind what others did, and Jennifer Paterson was not 'others'. Together they had built an empire, campy and snobbish though it may be, and the fact that Clarissa was about to lose that was a hard pill to swallow indeed.

There were other projects; contingencies had been discussed, many harried telephone conversations with Patricia had ended in Clarissa's engagement with various cookery enthusiasts beyond the new year - but that she would not have short, stout, dependable Jennifer at her side saw to most of that enthusiasm greatly muted. Clarissa's exclamations of how lovely it all was could be interpreted as an act of denial, and this she could plainly see in herself. Patricia's strained voice on the other end of the line as the summer marched on ( _"It's no good; she's terminal, Clarissa"_ \- words the cook would never forget) was a constant and sobering reminder that time was a relentless assailant, and that death looms overhead like a great swooping hawk, making victims out of us all when we least expect it.

She would be successful without Jennifer, but she would not be as happy as she could have been were she to live.

The woman went to her grave with no regrets, and that is not something Clarissa would be able to claim. She recalled a time when she thought that her adolescence and adulthood had been saved by her having sought treatment for alcoholism, but the scars remain. An estranged sister who believed her to be the family upstart frequently sent degrading letters, calling into question the violence their late father had exacted on the family. She knows intellectually that her accounts of those events is ironclad in its truth; but that it is constantly challenged is emotionally exhausting. Above that, she lives with the scars (both literally and figuratively) of those terrible times. Only on one occasion did she talk about it with Jennifer, whose response was to pray for her, of all things.

If Clarissa's faith had been that unwavering, perhaps she never would have sought the solace of the bottle at all. Of all the things Jennifer represented - food prepared with passion and brutal honesty, the complete aversion to political correctness and by extension the acceptance of her weight - the most staggering was her connection to God. The belief that He watched and protected her in all things; even unto death. As far as Clarissa was concerned, the woman ought to be canonized.

The last time she had spoken to Jennifer, there had only been talk of grander times - her life in Italy and China, going to lavish parties and entertaining Prince Charles, accidentally referring to him as Your Majesty. All stories that Clarissa had heard before, but they shone brilliantly in the retelling then, as if she had been hearing them for the first time. When Clarissa laughed, it turned into tears quickly. "That's quite enough, my dear!" Jennifer had bellowed. "I am headed to the great hereafter, jolly and fulfilled!"

By the time they had ended their conversation, Clarissa promises to bring Jennifer a tin of caviar.

Clarissa decides that the afternoon of August 9th, 1999 is as good a time to go to London as any.


End file.
